


Boats and Birds

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha!Eren, Alpha!Levi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, More Pairings to Come - Freeform, More characters to come, Omega!Armin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin Arlert, a beautiful Omega, is kidnapped and taken by a group of hunters that destroyed his village. When the worst seems yet to come, Armin is rescued by a group of wild wolves. They take him to their own village, their ways of life seeming barbaric to Armin. Oddly enough, several strong Alpha's take an interest in the poor Omega and take it upon themselves to compete for his affections, much to Armin's dismay. <br/>In which Armin is forced to abandon his perfect, relaxed life to take on one of erotic adventure with a bunch of jacked dudes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The start of this story is slow and boring sorry, but things will get good in the next chapter. This story will probably involve Armin/A lot of people, because I literally ship Armin with everyone. I also want Armin to suffer so be prepared for some of that shit too. Enjoy!

It's hot. Painfully hot, a blistering, sweltering heat that stems from his lower belly and branches outwards to stitch his body in ribbons of heat and pain and pleasure. It's been several days, but time always manages to blur together into a oily splotch of consciousness whenever Armin is stuck in the room. It's his heat room, and he believes that name is perfectly suiting for how damn hot it gets inside his chamber. Even the chilled breezes from the waters don't break past the barrier of lust that emanates from the Omega. Luckily, he is nearing the final stages of his heat, and Armin feels satisfied when he is able to take a gasping breath without having his lungs filled with the heavy weight of his unfulfilled desires.

Armin decides on a whim to satisfy those unheeded desires once more before unveiling himself to the livid world. He's already naked, so there is no fabric coming between his goal and himself that he needs to worry about. His cock is hard, his fingers delved into his dripping hole. He must work them a little bit longer, push himself over the edge of bliss.

He allows his mind to wander off towards something else to distract himself from the blazed heat of the room and the rather awkward sounds he is pronouncing.

Armin thinks of the kind Alpha in his village. The Alpha he has known since the ripe age of 10, the Alpha his parents sensed held a special connection to their Omega son, the Alpha whose parents presented the betrothal gift to Armin as he quickly nears his coming of age. The Alpha who played with Armin, the Alpha who gave attention to Armin. The Alpha who taught Armin how to be strong, stronger to be able to protect his village. The Alpha with the dark curtailed hair, the Alpha with the stunning freckles, the Alpha with the beaming smile, broad chest, long legs, strong arms-

"Marco!" Armin wails as he quivers through his orgasm. Though not as strong as ones previous in his heat, his fading orgasm leaves him breathless and limp on the bed. He lets out a heavy grunt as he pulls his lubricated fingers from his backside, wiping the slick dripping digits onto the linen fabrics below.

Armin always feels gross after he is anchored out of his heat. Sweaty, sore, and smelly. He is thankful that the thick log cabin of his heat room comes prepared with a restroom. After a small moment to collect himself after coming down from a high that's lasted nearly a week, breathing heavily into the crooked joint of his elbow thrown over his face, Armin rolls out of bed.

His legs are shaky when his feet touch the ground, quivering like the skewers of their huts on persistently windy days. Armin stumbles into the restroom, leaning against the wall as he starts the faucet of the tub. The hot water bubbles out, brought directly from the hot springs behind the brush of the sandbar.

Once the tub has been filled generously, Armin lowers his body into the hot water below. Gosh, everything is hot. He tilts his head back and breaths heavily, tickling strands of his light hair moving across the back of his neck. Even in here, the air feels congealed with the scent of his heat.

Armin thoroughly washes himself, starting from his toes till he reaches his shoulders, vigorously scrubbing at his body with the ragged cloth that had been hanging over the side of the tub. There is a fresh bar of soap, which Armin whittles down to a small cube. He pays special attention to his nether regions, working until he feels satisfied with the cleansed state of his body.

There is an extra set of clothes in the cabinet under the sink. Armin is used to this whole ordeal, so he doesn't need to look for the garments. They are a bit big, but wearing oversized clothing is more favourable than being naked.

He feels trepidation as his hand hovers over the doorknob, but he knows his fears are futile. It's not as if this is the first time he has been in this situation. Nonetheless, there's an indecent sense of an invasion of his privacy during his heat, an urge in his body he cannot control, and no matter how natural it is, no matter how many people insist it's fine, Armin is embarrassed.

He leaves the cabin with a determined huff. The fresh air outside fills his lungs in a beautiful way, and he gulps it in like a lost man starved from flesh. There's a small trail that leads back to the village, a groove within the tall beach grass that gives Armin enough time to prepare himself to face his friends. He knows that they shan't make fun at him, having all become accustomed to this scene, yet Armin is still reluctant.

There are only two Omega's in Armin's village, only himself and the female Omega of the same age. They had been littermates, though not related by any sort of blood. They had been known as the blessed pair, the first and only Omega's born to their village in generations. Both have grown baring the typical looks of an Omega- soft blonde locks, fair skin, short in height, and curvy in shape. Although, there is a new suspected Omega playing amongst the children- though it isn't fun to discuss heating troubles with a premature pup. The only real shoulder he can lean on about these difficulties belongs to Krista, the other Omega. Their Beta friends may be nurturing, their Alpha friends may be protective, but only Armin and Krista truly understand what the other is going through.

That is why Armin is not surprised when he has reached the end of the sandy path and he sees Krista waiting impatiently, her gown flowing in the evening western winds and a basket held close in her arms.

The village is placed within a safe haven shielded by the tall grasses and shrubs of the beach shore, hidden nestled into a half bay. The sand their village lays on has been hardened through years of sturdy use. It's an old village, but it is respectable. Armin believes the location of their village to be a great match- it's fairly well hidden from predators and hunters, and the view they get is amazing.

"Good gods, I thought you died in there!" She exclaims loudly once Armin is in earshot.

"Sorry, sorry. You know how I like to take my time afterwards." Armin holds up his hands defensively, and the two of them fall into an even pace on the way back.

"Honestly, that I do not understand. Whenever I've finished, I'm nearly dying to escape!" Krista chuckles.

"I like to feel clean and presentable, you know?" Armin shrugs, touching shoulders with the female. It feels nice to have humanly contact after several days alone.

"Yes, because you have a suitor." Krista teases, pushing her hip against Armin's firmly.

That comment makes the boy flush, and he rubs the back of his neck shyly. "Well- I mean, of course! You'll be feeling the same way, soon. Has Hans prepared his vows yet?"

To that, Krista snorts. "You know how picky daddy dearest is."

"Do you mean yourself?" Armin quirks. "I believe if it were up to you, you will be off with that human girl lodged not that far into the thick of the woods, hm?"

Krista gasps, astounded. "I told you not to tell anyone!"

"And I haven't! You can trust me." Armin quickly jabs in, making sure his friend understands where his loyalty lays. "Anyways, what's in the basket?"

The duo have walked further into the centre of the village and they are now surrounded on both sides by grass huts made from the wood of the palms and the tall dry grasses of the beach. In the middle of the village there is a large charcoal pit, used solely for bonfires and large villa meals. Perpendicular from where the two Omega's fled the trail to the heat cabin is the beautiful ocean, splayed out in all its graceful blues. Armin can hear the sound of rolling waves crashing over one another, and children squealing in playful delight on the white sands of the beach.

"Oh!" Krista exclaims as the duo sit at the log benches situated around the bonfire pit. "I made your favourite. You must be starved, hm?"

Indeed, Armin is famished. It is nearly impossible for an Omega to eat whilst in a heat, and because of that it is common to find Omega's binge-eating before and after their heats.

Armin is overjoyed when Krista reveals one of his favourite post-heat treats- warm slices of bread topped with raspberry jam.

"You are a saviour! Divine Krista!" Armin jokes, though his eagerness is not quite overplayed. He thanks his friend as she hands him a slice, and he quickly wolfs it down. A oceanic breeze gently whips at their skin, the taste of salt carried heavy.

"Armin, look over there." Krista nods with her head towards a group of people; though it is not just any group of people, Armin recognizes it as their villages infamous clique of teenaged Alpha's.

Krista snickers, covering her mouth with a small hand as she pretends not to notice. "Do you see Marco?"

Indeed, Armin does. He is staring quite blatantly towards Armin and Krista. The other Alpha's are talking to him, pushing his shoulder in the roughhousing way of the Alpha's. Marco's expression is that of a lost one.

"He looks like a lost puppy!" Krista giggles. "He's staring at you with those big needy eyes... Do you think I should go? Do you think he'll approach us with me here? He's always been a very conservative type of Alpha." Krista looks over Armin's shoulder towards the group and waves.

"Wh- I don't know! He's... Eh-" Armin cuts himself off, shyly lowering his gaze.

"Come on, Armin, there is no time to be embarrassed. You two are practically married already. Gosh, I bet his friends are pissed that he snatched the only available Omega..." Krista sighs dramatically.

"You're still available, too, are you not?" Armin asks curiously.

"Not for any of them!" Krista laughs as she stands, picking up her basket. "I'll see you around, alright?"

"Hopefully. See you." Armin waves as he bids her goodbye. Once she has walked far enough, Armin turns his gaze towards the rowdy group of Alpha's. His attention is only drawn to Marco's. Their eyes meet, and Armin smiles sheepishly. Oh, the butterflies in his stomach are tickling him so delightfully now.

Armin doesn't have to urge Marco to come over; he trots towards Armin on his own accord.

"Hello." Armin greets softly, raising his shoulders and turning his head.

"Hello." Marco responds in turn, sitting down next to Armin- but not too close! "Are you, um, okay?"

Armin laughs at the innocence of his friend. "Yes, I'm okay. It's a typical occurrence."

Marco hums. "Oh. Yeah."

"So, did anything happen while I was absent?" Armin asks, having a need for conversation but with no real topics to discuss.

"Loriel tried to challenge me. It was a good fight, but I came out victorious." Marco says. He lowers his shirt collar to reveal large bite marks on his neck.

Armin has never been able to stand these Alpha dynamics- but, allegedly, Marco is some sort of leader in his group of friends. It's a strange, yet common, occurrence, but habitual that Armin does not understand. As an Omega, he had been raised upon different social dynamics. Omega's do not fight. In these modernized packs, Omega's are the social beings. They are the ones who discuss big decisions, and they are the ones that uphold the treaties and good graces with other packs, other cities and villages. Alpha's are the warriors, the protectors. They are the strongest members in packs, the kings and the rulers and the warlords, and they are the ones with the most authority. Alas, it is common for Alpha's to take Omega's as their right hands, a level-headedness in the usual brawny ways of the Alpha.

Although, there are some places that have not caught up to the changing of times. They are called the Wilds, and they are a dark and lawless place. Only the strongest will survive out there. Thankfully, the packs of the Wilds know better than to get close to the civilizations around them.

Not much is known about the Wilds, and Armin has a strange curiosity for the world beyond.

"Of course you won," Armin murmurs softly. "You are strong. Although, that does look painful." Armin is tempted to reach out, to gently caress the wound Marco holds high with pride.

Marco laughs unsurely, shrugs his shoulders weakly. "Eh, it's not that bad. I can handle it." He is silent for a moment, before he speaks up. "Oh, yeah! You must be starved to death, right?"

Armin groans loudly. "Gosh, you have no idea! I could really go for some of that famous chicken soup of yours." Armin winks playfully, nudges Marco with his elbow.

"Is that all you want me for, my soup?" Marco replies coltishly in turn. "I'm just messing with you. Let's go, then."

Armin stands with the looming boy, and together they move towards Marco's hut. It's front is near the centre of the village, whilst it backs out onto the woodlands behind. Armin wonders if Marco's younger sister is home, but, alas, she is most likely playing at the beach with the other children.

Living by the ocean, there isn't much to do for livestock. A popular game industry in Armin's village is the abundance of indigenous fish in the sea around them. Seafood is something common amongst the village. Most families tend to their own crops for vegetables and fruit. Wheat comes from out of the village. Cattle and chicken are rarities, and they have become a sort of currency. The more livestock you own, the more well off you are.

And it just so happens to be that Marco owns an abundance of chickens.

They reach the Alpha's hut, stepping up onto the small veranda before pushing inside. All huts are made similarly, with a common room, a dining room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and enough bedrooms to serve the family. Armin has gotten comfortable with Marco's hut, so he knows how to maneuver it.

Marco leads Armin directly to the kitchen, where the Omega sits himself at a small circular table. Marco sets to work, the two talking idly. After a while, the savoury aroma of the broth begins to fill the room, and Marco begins mincing vegetables for the soup. He has to go out back to where their cooler lays buried in the sand and he returns with a large chicken leg in which he also cuts into smaller cubes to place within the broth. Soon enough, Marco has prepared two bowls of the dish. He presents one to Armin, and the young blond moans.

"Oh, Marco, this smells delicious!" He compliments eagerly, staring down at the murky liquid.

"Then, dig in!" Marco gladly holds up his own spoon.

They eat in peace, their feasting silence only interrupted by small chit chat in between spoonfuls. Armin finishes his bowl, and Marco follows suit. They empty their dishes into the small sink.

"I believe there is going to be a bonfire tonight." Marco states gingerly as he cleans up the mess he made. "Would you like to go with me?"

Armin smiles from where he stands at Marco's side. "Of course, I would love to."

Before long, they head out together. The sun is lazily drooping towards its earthen home, painting the landscape before it with a beautiful arrangement of golden oranges. The water glistens calmly, reflecting the glow of the orb dropping into it. A faint draft carries itself throughout the interior of the village, carrying with it the satisfied scent of dinners just eaten. Armin can see excitable children hopping around the pyre, the adults working the wood patiently bidding the young ones to play somewhere else. People are starting to gather, and so Marco and Armin approach.

Together they find the others their age, sticking together in a close clump of cramped teenage space. It doesn't take long for Armin to find Krista, and they lock arms.

"Isn't it great that you came out of your heat on the night of the full moon?" She asks, her stunning blue eyes wide and glistening.

"Oh? So that's the occasion. Huh, I didn't know." Armin looks off towards the fire pit.

"Well, of course!" Krista laughs, a joyous sound in the circumstances.

The full moon bonfire is a special occasion, one to mark the passing of the moon through the next month, and also a time for those young ones who've just shown their dynamic to transform full.

"Come on, it's starting." Krista urges Armin onward, and the male longingly looks back towards Marco.

The Alpha holds a thumbs up.

A hush falls through the fair crowd of villagers that have gathered, each person watching as the torch is lit. With the help of flammable gasses, the torch lights easily. It is thrown into the fire pit, and the wooden formation erupts. People holler loudly, cheering as the hot flames lick upwards towards the darkening sky. In the heat of the moment, through the crowd of deafening howls, three children step forward. They look to be no older than thirteen, each in their awkward prepubescent phases. Though there is something different about each child, they hold a certain air- the air of someone who has just found their dynamic.

The one in the centre is an Alpha, Armin can tell. The way she holds herself seems so arrogant, whilst the other two seem more sated. Beta's, of course.

The villagers cheer them on, and the three of them look around uncertainly. The Alpha is the first to move, bending down low. The Betas follow suit. They each begin changing- skin turning taut, hair growing out into fur, noses to muzzles, arms to legs. They grew pointed ears and fluffed tails. Soon enough, three young wolves took the place of the children. The wolves look around holding worried expressions that soon change to joy. They bound around, nipping and pawing at one another with their newfound bodies.

Armin laughs. He remembers the first time he turned- it was painful and strange, but there was a special type of freedom belonging only to that form. Although, he hasn't transformed back into a wolf since that day. There is no reason for Omega's to be wolves!

As the children come down from their excited high, the celebration begins. Jolly music is played by people on their instruments, and people break off to dance, to sit, to talk.

Krista pulls Armin by the arm into a group of line dancing couples. She swings him around, and he does the same to her. It's fun, playful, and Armin is enjoying it thoroughly. They hook their arms and skip around, and they then hook their arms with others. They dance like that till Armin is sore on his feet, laughing gaudily as they sit on the wooden benches. The sun has completely set, basking the lands in an impenetrable darkness, only broken by the large fiery show being put on by the village.

"Oh, Armin, this is so much fun!" Krista laughs festively. She is leaning heavily against the male, arm still grasped to his. "Though, I do believe someone else wants your attention."

Armin twists his head, looking around till he spots Marco uncertainly approaching the two Omega's.

"Hello, Krista." He greets, moving to stand before them in an unthreatening fashion. "Are you enjoying the night?"

"You know it, Marco." She smirks, and stands. "I think I'll leave you to be, hm? They are starting to pull out some snacks now."

When she leaves, the two men follow her till she has disappeared through the crowd.

Marco turns to Armin. "Would you, ah, like to come back to my hut?"

Armin stares for a small moment, his reply stuck in his throat. Armin knows that Marco isn't holding anything dangerous in the back of his mind, but there is something twitching deep within Armin. Nervous excitement? For what? Oh, Armin knows what he's anticipating, and that is why he so eagerly accepts the offer and trails after Marco, back into the darkness of his hut.

Inside, they can briefly see the bonfire through the open windows of the home. It gives the hut a comfortable glow.

"It's nice out there, hm? The fire scares away all the bugs." Armin comments.

"It is. As much as I enjoy silent nights, adventure is good every once in a while." Marco leans against the wall near the door.

"You know how I crave adventure." Armin teases.

In the hut, they can still hear the blaring music and talkative screams from the crowd. Marco holds out his hand to Armin.

"Shall we dance?"

Armin glances from the offered hand to the Alpha's face. Marco looks nervous. "We shall."

Marco takes Armin into his grasp, politely holding the slighter male at an arms distance away. They dance softly, moving back and forth on their feet with inexperienced shuffling. Marco's hand is sweaty, Armin can feel it in his own and the one pressed against the small of his back. Daringly, Armin presses forward, nestling his head against Marco's large chest. Marco tenses, but he makes no move to push Armin away. The music has slowed, yet the yelling of the crowd seems to increase, and Marco and Armin begin to sway languidly.

Armin can feel it rumbling in Marco's chest when he speaks. "I think I l-"

He is interrupted by a loud gunshot. Armin startles away from Marco, head whipping back and forth, eyes worn with confusion. The Alpha seems shocked for a moment too, but he doesn't let it appear visually on his face. To Armin, he remains calm and collected.

"Maybe some drunkard lost his wits?" Marco offers, reaching out slowly to calm the worried Armin.

Probably. That has to be it, it's the only available option.

Armin reaches towards Marco, but harsh rapid banging at the door stops him.

"I know you're in there, now get on out!" The voice that speaks is rough and unimaginable. Unrecognizable.

Armin can sense Marco's worry now.

The Alpha quickly urges the Omega forward, frantically pushing Armin towards the back of the hut. He has his hand pressed against the back of Armin's neck, massaging into the calming scent gland there.

"It's okay," He murmurs. "Just hurry."

There is more loud banging at the door, and the wood begins to splinter.

They are in the kitchen when the door is kicked open, sending a spray of wood chips across the floor.

"Go, Armin!" Marco yells, releasing his hold on the boy to stand guard at the entrance of the kitchen. He sees Armin's reluctance, and he screams at him once more. "Go!"

Marco is replaced by a large standing black furred wolf, his maw opened wide and drooling.

"I c-can't..." Armin breathes out, watching Marco in muted shock. He just can't leave Marco all by himself!

The wolf lunges forward, and sounds of bloodshed fill Armin's ears. He can't move. He's frozen in spot, watching the door to the kitchen helplessly. Only when he hears a pained yelp does he turn on his heel and run away.

He bounds out of the kitchen door, stumbling into the frightful woods behind. The unfamiliar leaves and branches whip and claw at his face, but he powers through them. Through cracks in the briar, Armin can see mountains of fire and smoke climbing from the huts of the village. He stops, wide eyes searching the sandy terrain. Bodies lay still on the ground, the white sand littered with red, and Armin notices the three newly announced wolf children. There are people in the village, strange looking and holding big guns and big knives, bigger than any he's seen before. They are hunters. Armin's body trembles, his eyes well with glistening tears that blind his vision. This cannot be happening.

Rustling sounds and loud calls in the woodlands from where he came made Armin hurry onward. He must not be captured, they will kill him! He runs awkwardly, unable to properly advance through the tropical forest. He looks back over his shoulder, hopelessly trying to pinpoint the source of the noises he heard chasing him; the hunters.

When he looks back he dives head first into a large chest. He tries to stumble backwards, to push and claw, but his arms are grabbed and pinned to his sides.

"Don't try to fight, don't wanna mess up your face like the other one." The breath in his face is hot and reeks of blood and cigars. "You're an Omega, huh? Too pretty to be anything else."

Armin whimpers softly.

"Although, I can't tell. Most of us hunters are human. I'll have to bring you to someone special. I've got quite the catch, huh?" The man laughs, and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Armin. He thinks of the chalkboards from his childhood schoolhouse, and Armin vaguely remembers stories they read of brave wolves defeating big scary hunters.

The hunters that were chasing them break through the brush. "Fuck, you finally caught up to him. He's slippery. Found that bastard in a hut with a big wolf, nearly bit my arm clean off! But I killed him, don't worry."

The man holding Armin grunts. "Let's take him with us. They've got another Omega, but she's rather troublesome. They had to mess her up some to bring her along." The man looks down at him. "You'll behave, yeah? Or we'll kill you."

Armin chokes out a small sob. He is crying, cold tears leaking down his stinging face. He closes his eyes, his stuttering mouth open, gasping for air that isn't polluted by the rotten stench of these killers.

Marco was going to tell him something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read the newest chapter of snk, let us all suffer together.  
> (praise be to Armin)  
> EDIT: I'm in a student exchange in Japan right now, so updates may come to a complete halt for a few months (9 weeks)

Armin is brought back to the village, burning so hot and bright he is reminiscent of his heat he finished this waning morning. It is loud, the screaming wisps of his perished family mere phantom thoughts. The crackling and snapping of the fire is terrifying, such large flames reflecting horrendously in the small Omega's bright orbs. He squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to face the brutal reality of the destruction of the village. He can feel the warmth on his skin, anyways, like a laughing reminder that this is not a dream, that this is real. His captors push and shove him harshly, dragging him along against his will, further into the dead land of his former home.

They stop, but Armin keeps his eyes held shut.

"We found another one. Omega, eh?"

"I don't know, get Richards. This village really was lousy, huh? Only two possible Omega's, one doesn't know her place, and hardly any gold at all? Bullshit to even come here if I do say so myself."

"Work is work." A man laughs, throaty and scratching against Armin's ear.

He will have to be very careful about his notions if he wants to come out alive.

"Who are you people?" He asks timidly, keeping his head lowered. He remembers the ways Omega's acted back in the olden ages and the wilds, the way humans expect them to nowadays. Humans are ignorant to the ways of others.

It seems to be for naught, as his chin is roughly pulled upwards by calloused hands. He dares to peak open his eyes, meeting the face of a shaggy man, face creased with lines and hollows and stubble. "Who do ya think we are, mutt? No more talkin', or I'll have to cut out those pretty blue eyes of yours."

This isn't fair. Why did this have to happen to them? Why is Armin rendered incapacitated to fight back, to free himself? There's not much he can do, anyways, seeing how easily these hunters were able to take out his entire village. Armin is weak. Armin is helpless.

The man pushes Armin's face away and looks about the blazed battlefield. "Richards!" He calls. "Get over here."

A woman steps through the smoke and ash, wiping a hand on her sweaty forehead. She's tall and intimidating- an Alpha. She proudly wears the scent of the blood of Armin's kin. Although, something about her seems off. There is an unmistakable scent lingering on her dry flesh. "What is it?" She questions, an edge of irritability in her tone.

"We think we found another one!" A goon behind Armin beams, pushing the slight boy forward. He stumbles, but straightens his posture before the enemy. He cannot meet the Alpha's eyes- she is a traitor to her own kind. She killed his family.

A nose is pressed firmly against his neck, his precious scent gland, and Armin squawks. He tries to reel back, but harsh hands lock him in place. He can feel the Alpha inhaling his scent, and he feels so exposed, so dirtied.

"He's an Omega, all right." The Alpha, Richards, says as she pulls away. "Reeks of it. Just finished his heat, too. Shame, but he'll be extra fertile in a few days."

There are snickers, and Armin flushes. "What do you people want from me?" He insists.

Richards stares down at him, her gaze the same as if she were observing a rat scuttling across her path. In a brief moment, too short to count, a thump sounds and an arduous feeling spreads throughout the back of his head. His world grows black, echoed through with the words,

"Don't spoil the goods!"

\---

He awakens to the sound of trotting hooves and a constant bouncing movement. His head is throbbing dully, most prominent behind his bleary eyes. Armin tries to widen his gaze, but his lids feel implanted to his eyeballs. He wants to move his arms, to massage his pained skull and relax his tensed muscles. But he cannot move his arms. Nor his legs, nor any movable part of his body. He squirms, eyes flying open. He squints at the harsh daylight flooding his vision.

A weight is pressed onto his shoulder, holding him down against the hard flooring. He stops his wriggling, fear holding him tight.

"Don't move, it will only make things worse."

Armin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws on the flesh. This isn't real- can't be real. But it is real. It's real and he's here and he has to get out. But how can he get out when his limbs are tied? Tears fill his vision, and Armin damns himself. What will crying do in this situation? All he can do is cry, he's useless!

"We're here."

The sudden act of being hoisted up over a shoulder makes Armin's world spin, and the jostling movements from his carrier are not much better. He is carried from a cart, brought out into the open world. It's brighter outside, but Armin yields to not close his eyes. Instead, he observes.

The ground is littered with tents and supplies crates, fires and food. There are people, all adults, mostly male, making their way throughout the area. It's a campsite, not permanent by any means. It's stuck in a small clearing, surrounded by a barrier of trees. But, wait, the trees are firs. They do not have any firs by the beach- where are they?

Armin is carried a little distance, and then gracelessly plopped onto the ground on his stomach. He groans.

"What's this?" Armin tilts his head upwards, trying to pinpoint a face to go with the low voice. There is a squad of men, dressed in leather and cotton prime for hunting conditions. One, a big, bulking man, boasts a red sash tied around one tricep.

"He's from that wolf village we attacked. Richards says he's an Omega. We can get good buck from him."

A foot is placed on his shoulder and turns him over to lay on his back. Armin connects the foot to the leg of the bulking man. It would seem that this man is their leader, if the air of confidence and red sash is anything to go by.

"Was he the only one?"

"No, there is a female. She's much more... Rowdy. She's with the other prisoners."

A chord strikes within Armin. Prisoners, he said. That means there are other people from his village alive, right? That means his family could be alive, Marco could be alive! Armin shields his glimmer of hope from the audience he currently has, instead letting out arrogant displays of fear. He will have to play his cards right.

The man in charge crouches next to Armin's head. "Now, lad, I'm sure your scared. But everything will be all right as long as you compromise with us. Here, I'll tell you my name, and then you'll tell me yours. They call me Abraham Carson, and I'm the leader of this hunter camp. Though people just call me Carson."

Armin closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He has to be good, he has to abide by what they say. "I... I am Armin Arlert."

Carson grins and pats Armin's head. He tries not to shy away from the touch. "Good boy, lying ain't no good."

Lying? So then, did they already know his name? Did they pull it from someone else? Or, are they simply trying to mess with him, to get him on edge? Armin's thoughts are racing now, and he isn't sure what to do.

"Untie him." Carson stands and pulls a cigarette from a front pocket, lights it as he watches.

The man who had carried Armin from the wagon pulls out a blade, and Armin cannot hide his flinch as the weapon approaches him. It is used only as instructed, to cut the ropes fastening Armin's limbs. When he is free, he pulls his arms to his chest and massages his poor wrists.

"Bring him to one of the tents." Carson says, waving a hand in dismissal as he walks away.

The man grabs Armin by the shoulder, pulls him up to stand. Armin wobbles on unsteady feet as he is roughly yanked to follow. He stumbles throughout the camp, his head swivelling back and forth. He has to recognize the layout of the camp, if he ever wants to escape.

Something catches his eye. A single file line of people, attached to one another by chains. They are slowly walking towards cages. Prisoners of these damned hunters, Armin assumes. A head of blonde hair catches his eye.

He opens his mouth, wanting to call for his friend.

But he is beaten to the punch.

She turns her head at the perfect moment, her eyes landing on Armin. She looks the same, thank the gods, yet sprouting a new black eye and a busted lip. She holds herself in high regards, even while she is chained up. When her eyes spot Armin, Krista's face brightens with hope, but it immediately darkens.

"Armin!" She shouts without restraint, pulling against the chains that bind her. She stops the motion of the line, and several people look their way. "Armin! I will save you!"

By the time she has uttered only a mere several words, there are hunters on her. They push her to the ground, hold her in the dirt as she hollers angrily. They tie a rag around her mouth, but they cannot hide the fire in her eyes.

Armin tries to stop, but he is forcefully shoved onwards.

"Don't stop, or you'll end up like her."

Though he keeps moving, Armin's eyes stay trained on Krista. She continues to fight, even after she is held down by several hunters. Armin admires the strength she holds, but fears for her. That strength may be the thing to kill her.

The distance between them increases till Armin isn't able to spot Krista any longer. That is when he is ushered inside of a tent that reeks of animal hide. The furnishings of the inner tent isn't much to brag about. There is a cot and a small table with a light source on top. There are a few other things, nothing that strikes Armin's notice in his quick swoop of the area. Armin turns. He is blocked from the outside world, abandoned in this confined space.

"There. You'll stay here till we say so." The man speaks, leaving to exit the tent. The security doesn't seem that tight, Armin ponders.

"When will that be?" Armin dares to ask.

"I don't know! Don't ask questions. And don't try to escape. We've got dozens of men who will catch you, no doubt about it. So, don't try anything." The human exits, leaving Armin all by his lonesome.

Armin knows that immediately trying to exit would be met with failure, so he instead decides to look about his confinements. He goes to the drawer near the cot and pulls open each cabinet. There isn't much of anything in the top, besides a pair of tweezers and some string and some loose ends. In the bottom, though, is a raggedy pair of shears. That could be useful later. Hanging off one side of the tent is a deer hide. Armin has never seen a live deer before, he idly recalls.

He sits on the cot very carefully, as if he is awaiting a trap to spring out from underneath the bedding. One does not.

He sits for several minutes, though he has no clue how long it has been truly. It feels as if centuries have passed, though, with him sitting still and rotting within the hunters camp. His growing itch to escape becomes too much for him, and Armin rises. He approaches the front of the tent, stands where the flap of fabric is able to be pulled back. He takes a deep breath and pushes his way out.

"H-Hey!" A voice instantly calls for Armin to still, and he does. It came from a young man, cracking in his wavering confidence. He cannot be much older than 20.

"I-I have to use the bathroom." Armin lies- although, it is not completely false. His bladder has been bothering him since he woke up, though his rush to survive has been keeping him sidetracked from lesser problems. But, using the bathroom is not why he left the tent.

The young hunan slumps visibly, one hand scratching his cheek. It must be a nervous twitch, Armin muses.

"A'ight, but I gotta go with you."

Armin nods and follows after his apparent guard. He is lead into the wilderness surrounding the camp, much to Armin's surprise. The man stops and faces Armin, his arms crossed.

Armin raises a brow, but it doesn't take long for him to get the hint. He turns away from the human to save his dignity and unpacks himself, releasing into the grass below. It is a sweet feeling, and it gives Armin time to think. He can escape right now if he so wishes. There is only one man with him, and they are away from the camp, hidden in the brush of the woodlands. The man may be larger and older, but Armin is a wolf. He can transform, and run away. He will be free. He will run to the nearest city and cry for help. They aren't in the wilds, he assumed, so the law still abides here. He can do this. Armin will be free.

He tucks himself back into his trousers and allows his chaperone to coerce him back to the tent.

It is still too early. He must be patient.

\---

Armin doesn't fancy sitting around all day, doing next to nothing, but he has no choice in the matter. When it comes to life or death, the stakes will be raised, and Armin must adapt.

Someone brought him a slice of bread and some water around noon- the time a mere assumption by Armin.

He had been plotting all day, figuring out ways he would be able to escape this hellish situation. He could pull the bathroom ruse again, but it is unknown if the same thing will happen. Maybe a different guard won't allow Armin to relieve himself, or will take him to a more secure location?

His doubts hold him back, keep him quiet until someone else peers into the tent.

It is Carson, and with him he holds a wooden bowl and cup to match. He pushes into the tent, and Armin rightens himself where he had been laying on the bed, letting his legs perch over the side.

"Here, you must be hungry." Carson says, handing the bowl to Armin. It has a fork in it, with some meaty contents and what looks to be rice. They don't have much rice by the beach, they live off of grains.

"Thank you." Armin mumbles, forking a piece of the meat into his mouth. It tastes like meat, though it is strange. It's more bitter and juicier, and it's thick when he bites into it and rather stringy.

His face must've been showing his discomfort in the new food, for Carson laughs. "It's buffalo. Bet you've never had that before. Lots of sinew, huh?"

Armin nods as he continues to eat, taking bites of meat and rice. He is rather hungry, after all.

When he has finished the bowl, he is handed the cup. Armin drinks half of it before putting both the contents onto the table near the cot.

Carson continues to stare, and Armin stares back. The bulking man seats himself next to Armin, sitting in a very casual, open manor. He isn't scared of Armin.

"Tell me, Armin, what is it like being an Omega?" Carson quips.

"Normal." Armin is quick to respond. "Contrary to popular belief, Mr. Carson, modernized Omega's are the same as Alpha's and Omega's. Not physically, but we hold the same political and social power. It is true that an Alpha can easily make an Omega submit, but it is highly advised against. If we were to be playing a game of chess, an Omega would be the king and an Alpha would be the queen. One holds more physical abilities than the other, but if he king dies, the game is lost. In a political and social case, I guess."

Carson tilts his head. "So, where would the Beta fit in?"

Armin flushes. "Well, it's a metaphor. A Beta is in the middle. The most human out of us all, if I do say so myself." Armin ponders for a moment, but then continues. "But, I guess the way of your human thinking has only been clouded. Omega's are naturally more submissive than the other two, and Alpha's have a heavier desire to be the best and the greatest. Modernized politics has helped stabilize the equality of all rankings." Armin frowns. "Though, in the Wilds, it is completely different. I hope to never find out."

Carson's heavy silenced is followed by a hum of thought. "Hm, Arlert, that is a very mature way of putting it. But, alas, you still act like a bitch when you're in heat, correct?"

Armin's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

In the next moment, Armin is pinned to the cot. His wrists are held above his head, squeezed together in one large hand. The other is on his chest, holding him down and whilst slithering through the buttons of his top.

Armin's expression pales. This is barbaric.

"Stop!" He pleads, squirming underneath the much more massive man on top of him.

"You said it yourself, Armin. Omega's are physically weaker, and meant to be submissive."

"N-No-!" Armin desperately cries. He needs to free himself from this situation, it cannot lead anywhere good! The hand on his chest is used instead to slap him roughly across the face, and Armin feels blood on his lip.

He is flipped from his back onto his belly, and his hips are roughly pulled upwards.

"We are going to sell you, Armin. Sell you to the biggest perv who is willing to pay the most. Virgins sell for more, but I don't think I can hold myself back around you. Omega's are just natural-born fuck holes, huh? It's true, isn't it? You walk around with an ass like that, you're begging to be filled."

Armin is in shock, he cannot move, he cannot speak. Why not? Why is he so useless, he can't even save himself?

"Now sit still and take it like a Omega."

"No!"

There is a loud ruckus outside, and a horrified scream from outside the tent. It sounded like the man who brought Armin to the woods. A gunshot follows, and more hollering.

Carson bolts upward from the cot, his expression darkened. Without a word, he flees from the tent. In the brief moment the flap is left to flutter open, Armin can see outside. Hunters frantically running, axes being thrown and guns being shot. There are wolves, lots of wolves, fighting the hunters.

The tent flap closes, and Armin is alone in his tent once more, reminiscent of the events that happened the day prior. There is no fire this time, and Marco isn't here to comfort him.

Armin whimpers softly. He wants to go home. He scrambles back against the cot, till he is at the furthest corner from the front of the tent. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs him there, his chin falling atop.

They won't find him in here. He's not a hunter.

A small sob trembles through Armin's small body.

He helps loudly as Carson's body is thrown through the tent. The man scrambles to rise, pulling at his gun that had clambered alongside his body. A wolf leaps into the tent, landing on Carson. It is large, the largest wolf Armin has ever seen. It's fur is a stunning brown, so dark in the shadows and like chocolate in the light. It's teeth are something else to marvel at, large and yellowed and sopping with blood and saliva.

It snarls in Carson's face, it's tail raised in a most arrogant display of dominance. Without much of a fight, it sinks it's bared fangs into Carson's skull, shaking him till he lays limp. Carson's blank eyes stare at Armin, swimming with the poisoned life of the man that once was.

Armin prays he will go unnoticed, quivering and sniffling in the corner.

The gods have abandoned Armin recently, and the wolf turns its large head towards the Omega, it's large maw still open and dripping. It sniffs at the air, stepping closer to Armin. The boy slowly raises his hands, placing the limbs in front of his face as a sort of last ditch effort to escape the terrors around him.

The wolf grumbles low and it moves forward. Armin jumps back in response, cowering away to his best ability. The wolf stops for a brief moment, but continues on nonetheless. It nudges it's thick muzzle between Armin's legs, and Armin feels his stomach tighten and drop all at once.

It's nosed pressed to Armin's belly, it slowly moves up till it is sniffing his chest. It's mouth opens, and Armin can smell the bloodlust rolling off of its tongue.

Why isn't this beast just ripping Armin apart where he stands? It would make the most sense.

A howl tears through the silence, and the wolf perks up, it's ears swivelling. In a moment too short, too strange for Armin to count, he is grabbed by the torso and pulled from the cot, from the tent, into the camp. He complains loudly, his eyes busting wide and his hands scrambling for purchase. He can feel sharpened teeth digging into his sensitive flesh, but other than that there is no motion of tightening around his frail frame.

Outside, it's a massacre, blood splattered along the ground, bodies littering the campsite. He cannot observe much, what with the way his body is forced into the jaws of the titanous wolf.

Armin wants to laugh at the irony of the situation, wants to cry at the self pity coursing through his veins, thinking back upon the grievous night he had with the hunters. The tables surely have turned. But, for Armin, he doesn't know which way his tables are facing anymore.

The movement of the wolf becomes more jostled as it breaks into a sprint, it's teeth unpleasantly biting into Armin.

He will have to deal with it for now. His mind is still a mess, racing to catch up with the situation but painfully out of breath. He might've been saved from the hunters, but Armin doesn't know if being taken by wolves from the Wild is any better.


End file.
